A Tale of Two Countries
by A Kugelschreiber
Summary: A Tale of Two Cities, Hetalia style plot twist. Matthew as Lucie, Arthur as Sydney and Francis as Charles. A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.


**A Tale of Two Countries**

**A/N: This is basically A Tale of Two Cities with a plot twist. **

**For those of you who don't know what it's about, here's the summary from the back of my copy: **

_They fled to London seeking safety and found each other- Dr. Manette, falsely imprisoned for decades; his daughter Lucie, whose stunning beauty was matched by her loyalty and grace; and Charles Darnay, who abandoned a royal title he hated to risk being called a traitor in France, a spy in England. Together, their love touched the hearts of even stodgy banker Mr. Lorry and cynical, jaded lawyer Sydney Carton. But in Paris, the fires of a revolution exploded in uncontrollable fury. The noble goals of freedom fighters became the crazed bloodbath called the Reign of Terror. And when three exiles returned home on an errand of mercy, they were trapped in a nightmare of mock trials and mad rage. Once in Paris, nothing could save Darnay, Lucie or Manette...Except a miracle (*cough* Sydney *cough*). _

**This story will be exactly like the book (most of the plot and character personalities) but it will have a plot twist. I'll explain the plot twist in the end note. So I hope you enjoy the story!**_  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or A Tale of Two Cities**

**Characters:**

**Lucie Manette: Matthew/Mathieu **

**Sydney Carton: Arthur **

**Charles Darnay: Francis**

**Dr. Manette: Lars **

**Monsieur Defarge: Ivan**

**Madame Defarge: Natalia**

**Jarvis Lorry: Vash**

**Jerry Cruncher: Gilbert**

**Mr. Stryver: Alfred**

**Prologue**

"_It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."_

_-Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities-Chapter 1_

"Matthew…your father… the renown physician Dr. Lars…he has been found. He whom you believed to be dead has been found. Recalled to life!"

As Vash relayed his shocking discovery to the fragile man, no more than seventeen, in front of him, violet eyes widened and delicate hands clutched his wrists to the point where he could see his knuckles turn white. The young man seemed to have much trouble in harnessing his feelings as his face faded into the same color as Vash's knuckles and his mouth quivered in a failed attempt to form words.

"Please," Vash urged, wincing slightly at the pain in his wrists, "have courage. You must come with me to Paris and restore him to life for he has been away from humanity and the world for so long. Compose yourself. It is only business."

"H-how?" Matthew was finally able to breathe out, which was a relief to Vash who was concerned that the poor boy had forgotten how to work his lungs. "I-I was told he died b-before I was even born…"

The blond banker nodded and squeezed Matthew's hands in reassurance and he shifted his blue eyes to the wall behind the other man to avoid the deluge of emotion pouring out of the innocent boy. He wasn't a man of feeling. He was a loyal banker of Telson's Bank in London. He had never dabbled with emotions for the clinking of money was all he ever paid attention to which was why the current circumstances made him thoroughly uncomfortable.

"He did die my boy. Being wrongfully locked away in dark destitute for eighteen years is, in a sense, death indeed," Vash acknowledged, mustering the courage to meet the young blond lad with an angel's countenance in the eyes. "But he has been recalled to life and is currently residing in the house of a civilian in Paris. And the sooner we get him out of France, the better and—dear lord Matthew are you listening? Matthew?"

But Matthew was merely frozen as the last bit of color he had left drained from his body and his grip became ever more noose-like. Sighing with concern, Vash untangled his bloodless wrists from the other's fingers and reclined Matthew easily onto the dark sofa near to where they had been sitting. Once he was assured that the youth would be fine, Vash quickly made arrangements for the ferry to carry them from Dover to Calais.

**!**

Ivan sighed as the desperate scene in front of him played out. Blood red wine trickled through the cobbled street, gathering in tiny crevices between the uneven blocks in the road. The dirt that was native to the tiny streets of Paris soiled it, but nothing hindered the residents of Saint Antoine from absorbing every last drop from the path.

The men made cups of their hands and drained what they could before all of the red liquid leaked through their fingers and ran down their chins. The women grabbed the cloths, which they had been using earlier to clean the floors or to tend to their own feet, and absorbed what they could of the wine. They twisted them into their children's mouths before tending their own dry tongues, scavenging every last drop before returning to whatever chore they had originally been occupied with.

There was even a joker, in all his maniacal glee, who dipped his fingers into the red substance and sloppily painted the word _Blood _upon the wall of a nearby building, unknowingly foreshadowing what was to come.

The day when the carriage carrying wine for transport accidently spilled some wine was truly a wonderful and miraculous day for the peasants of the Saint Antoine district in Paris for it had been a long while since any of them had even tasted a mere drop of wine.

Sighing once more, Ivan removed the joker from his offensive habit, but he couldn't suppress the wicked delight he received from viewing the horrible word that was now dripping sinisterly from the wall of the building. However he played his poker face well and headed back into his wine shop where he glimpsed at his wife, Natalia, who seemed not to taking notice of any of the recent events. Instead, the beautiful woman with fair hair and sharp features merely glanced in her incoming husband's direction and went back to knitting what was in front of her with nimble fingers.

"Good morning Jacques," a customer greeted Ivan as he walked by their table with a wine bottle. He was seated next to two others, all enjoying a small glass of wine.

The light haired man smiled and returned the greeting,

"Good morning to you as well Jacques."

"It is a lovely day, isn't it Jacques?" added the second customer, taking a sip of his wine, emptying it in the process.

"Indeed it is Jacques," came the reply from Ivan as he poured a bit more wine into the dry cup.

A similar exchange passed through Ivan and the third customer, both not failing to acknowledge the others as "Jacques", and the wine keeper was just about to engage in a much less superficial conversation with the three when he heard the subtle cough of his wife.

Smiling once more, he expressed an "adieu" and returned to his wife's side. Natalia had put down her knitting needles and looked up at her lord with emotionless eyes.

"Yes dear?" Ivan inquired, setting down the wine bottle on the counter in front of them.

"You seemed to have overlooked some new arrivals," she murmured, silently gesturing with her eyes at two seemingly foreigners seated at the corner of the shop. They were two men, one with a young face, fair hair, and vibrant purple eyes. The other had the posture of an experienced businessman. He had a stern face, blond hair that was dirtier than the other's and lines from maturity creased the corners of his eyes.

The fair wine keeper nodded and a silent word passed through husband and wife as he glanced momentarily at his wife's knitting with a poker face and returned to Natalia's own expressionless face.

"I shall attend to them at once."

Vash, who had been trying to deliver some reassurance to the extremely anxious and white Matthew, now noticed the tall wine shop owner heading towards their table.

"Here's our man," he pointed out and the two of them both turned to face the burly man with extremely light hair.

"Gentlemen," Ivan welcomed with his shopkeeper smile. "How may I help you?"

Vash stood up and straightened his coat, motioning for Matthew to do the same, and cleared his throat in a very business-like manner.

"Yes, we wish to see him."

It was a second before Ivan realized who the visitors were but realization soon dawned upon him.

"Ah! So you have come to take him out of France?"

"That would be out intent sir."

Matthew's voice was so small yet so clear that it startled both Ivan and Vash. Ivan could detect a slight accent in the youth's voice, which betrayed the fact that he wasn't native English.

Nodding, Ivan signaled the two Englishmen to follow him as he led them towards the back of the store. As he opened the door to the housing settlements that lay behind the shop, Vash and Matthew caught a glimpse of the destitute the Parisian gentry were expected to live in. The smell was what hit them first. The wretched stench of filth and poverty settled upon every floating atom of the area. Living quarters were mashed together and there was absolutely no space for a healthy human being to live in. Then again, the peasants of France were far from healthy.

Ivan led Vash and Matthew up many flights of stairs, all the while Vash was keeping a steady hold on an ever nervous Matthew and whispering to Ivan.

"Is he locked up?"

The fair hair man nodded.

"Why?"

Without turning, Ivan murmured back,

"My good man, if a person who has been put under lock and key for eighteen years suddenly finds himself in front of an open door, imagine how mad he would go. Imprisonment does strange things to a man."

"Has he changed?"

"Changed? I would say that's an understatement. "

They finally approached the door of the highest apartment and Ivan motioned for the other two men to be silent as he pulled it open and walked inside. Vash and Matthew tailed behind, Matthew trying to get a peek of what was inside over Ivan's broad shoulders. However, he found it unnecessary as Ivan soon moved out of the way to reveal a man, who seemed to have drowned in a pool of cruel aging, hunched over a shoemaker's bench, working diligently. His once blond hair was now faded into an extremely light peach color- so light that it was almost snow white. His gaunt eyes were dazed as if he were in a world of his own. Quivering hands clutched a small knife in one hand, and a have made shoe in the other and his fingers worked nonstop for he failed to acknowledge that he had visitors.

Ivan cleared his throat.

"Good day sir," he started, claiming the man's attention. "I see you've made progress on your shoe."

The weak man glanced up at Ivan, barely nodded, and focused back on his work.

"Why don't you tell our guests what kind of shoe it is?" he ventured again.

Shaking fingers halted their work and the man spoke in a mumble.

"It is a lady's shoe. A young lady's walking shoe."

Ivan glanced over at Vash, whose brow was furrowed as he stared at the former prisoner. He caught Ivan's eye and read his expression.

_Do you see now?_

As if to prove his point even further, Ivan asked once more,

"And why don't you tell our guests your name?"

A brief pause. Then,

"One Hundred and Five, North Tower."

"Come again?" Vash inquired, confused.

"One Hundred and Five, North Tower."

The banker caught the wine keeper's eye once again.

_Changed indeed. _

At this point, Matthew hadn't said one word, not trusting his voice. Here he was looking upon the man who was supposed to be his father in a state that was nearly unspeakable and it took much willpower not to let the tears that threatened to flow fall.

"Dr. Lars," Vash said, the sorrow creeping into his voice, "do you remember nothing of me, your old friend? Do you remember nothing of your old life?"

The man who was supposed to be Dr. Lars looked up with a white face into Vash's eyes and fear and confusion clouded his face.

"Doctor? No, no. I am a shoemaker. Yes see. Shoes."

He nodded as if reassuring himself and hurriedly went back to the task at hand.

Matthew could hold himself back no longer.

"Oh Papa!" he cried as he stumbled forward and caught the former prisoner in an affectionate embrace all the while mumbling "I'm sorry" and "I'm here now."

The shoemaker was about to push the stranger away in fear and perplexity. Why was this man hugging him? Was he being attacked?

He raised his knife in self-defense when he caught sight of Matthew's lavender eyes and fair face.

The knife fell from his hand and he relaxed somewhat, a strange sense of recognition seeping into him that he couldn't place.

"We must get him out of France. Immediately," Matthew stated, still clutching his weak father in his arms.

Before Vash could protest about Dr. Lars's fragility, Ivan placed a large hand on his shoulder and nodded.

"It does not do him well to stay in a country so wicked to him," he spoke in a grim voice that sent chills down Vash's spine. "You must take him to England at once."

With that said, a carriage was prepared, tickets to the ferry for Dover were purchased, and all the while, Matthew never let go of the man who had forgotten a human's warmth.

**Hopefully that was a good start? I hope I can do the book justice since it's such a wonderful book. (Seriously if you haven't read it go read it now). I basically wanted to illustrate France and England's relationship which is where the plot twist comes in. **

**In the actual story, both Charles and Sydney fall in love with Lucy. But in this one, I'm having Sydney/Arthur fall in love with Charles/Francis and they sort of have an affair. You'll see what I mean when it actually happens. **

**Other than that, the story will stick to the book plot. **

**Note: I do not approve of CharlesxSydney but I ship FrancexUk and that's what this story is. **

**So... review?**


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